


Bird of Mine

by Vampykitty_kun



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU - Comicverse, Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ankle Cuffs, Breathplay, Captivity, Dubious Consent, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Knifeplay, M/M, Pet Names, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2017-11-27 01:13:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vampykitty_kun/pseuds/Vampykitty_kun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim awoke within a room that was stale aired, pitch black, and completely soundless. He was ill, and even if he HAD been able to move, the shackle around his ankle meant he would not be leaving anytime soon. As far as Dick knew, he was dead, and that put him at Jason's mercy. To make matters worse, the man was dead-set on him being his personal plaything, a pet of sorts...</p><p>At first, Tim wants nothing more than to get strong enough to make an escape. But after a while, he's truly gotten to know the former Robin, and he's not quite so sure he wants to leave anymore, or if Jason could take it if he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will constantly be a work in progress, something to dabble in when I'm stuck in other fics.
> 
> This fic starts off in 'Battle for the Cowl', after Tim's fight with Jason, and branches off into an AU from there. One where after dragging Tim off, he stashed him at a separate location instead, and then returned to his 'cave' to wait for Dick's arrival. Thus making his statement to Dick that Tim is dead seemingly legit.
> 
> And we go from there.
> 
> Pairing is Jay/Tim, and we're dealing with a darker, currently flipped out Jason. Should be fun!

Tim awoke sluggishly with a fog in his head and stiffness in his joints. The room was stale aired, pitch black, and completely soundless. He shifted, hoping to push himself up with his hands, but his muscles refused to cooperate, and his sternum erupted with fire. A croak of a gasp left his lips, and he squeezed his eyes shut, praying for the sudden onslaught of pain to cease.

Keeping entirely still, and slowing his breathing brought the pain down somewhat, reducing it to a throbbing heated ache. Once his mind cleared to a degree he remembered.

He had been fighting Jason.

Jason had wanted him to be  _his_  Robin.

He had declined.

Jason had _stabbed_ him.

And then he faintly recalled playing possum, feeling the scrape and tear at his back as he was dragged, and then…

He drew a blank.

Despite his efforts, he must have legitimately blacked out from the blood loss and trauma to his already exhausted body. Which explained why his body was stiff, his brain was swirling, and his stomach was doing flips despite the lack of motion. He shifted his arm, sliding his hand slowly up his ribs, reaching towards his center. His fingertips brushed up against gauze and he let out a sharp hiss.

He was not in the cave, either of them, he knew that much.

Tim did not get dwell on things very long for he blacked out once more soon after…

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Tim was not sure how much time had passed since he had last awoke, but nothing had changed. He was still in the same location, _alone_ , able to see nothing but darkness. He tested his limbs once more, forcing the stiff muscles to obey him. He was on a mattress, no pillows, no sheets. That much told him that he had _not_ been found, that more than likely Jason had deposited him wherever he was, and had left him for one reason or another. Any potential efforts to locate him had clearly failed and he was regretting his decision to confront the man alone.

It hurt too much to sit up, he gave up after the first two tries… the sharp stabbing pains erupting from his chest making it impossible to think straight, and sapping his energy. He had lost a _lot_ of blood, the wound caused by the batarang to his sternum had likely caused a severe class two hemorrhage, draining him of far too much blood to function, but not enough to make him critical. He could be thankful for small miracles he supposed. Better to be lightheaded and void of strength than be dead.

It seemed as though he would not be moving anytime soon however…

He was cold, delirious, riddled with pain, and if he had not been so dehydrated he might have cried. It had admitted been ages since he had been so helpless and unable to care for himself.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Tim awoke for the third time laying in the same limp position, the room still cloaked in the darkest of shadows, and still utterly alone.

This he could not understand in the slightest. There was no point to the madness- no purpose to keep him in such conditions. With the area being pitch black there were clearly no cameras on him, so why leave him alone, unsupervised, and in agony? Surely he was not meant to die like this, otherwise why would Jason have treated his wound at all?

How long had it even been?

He was parched, hungry, and still oh so very tired- which was _not_ a good sign at all. His sense of time was non-existent and his health was certainly not improving, and it was even far more likely that he was on the decline without additional care and nourishment. It was hard to evaluate himself when he could hardly move.

He tried to cry out several times, perhaps alert the man to his returned consciousness, but only managed a soft croak, nothing that would alert _anyone_ to his distress. He shifted on the mattress, giving a poor attempt at exploring his surroundings as he forced his muscles to move once again, trying to keep his chest steady to avoid further agitation to the tender wound.

This time, he made a discovery that sent his heart racing, and the panic bubbled up in his chest.

His left ankle was _cuffed_. A wide brace, and judging by the rattle caused by his straining, said restraint had a pretty hefty chain attached.

Tim let out distressed whine, giving a dry sob that was more groan than anything as his throat constricted, and his eyes burned.

Even if he could muster up enough strength to move he was trapped.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Tim had awoken and fallen back asleep several times before anything had changed. He felt ill, nauseous from the lack of sustenance, and the hunger tore at his stomach. A constant burning ache throbbed in his chest. He was beginning to suspect infection. The wounds on his neck and shoulders, things he had nearly forgotten about, stung sharply, and the entirety of his body was sore from the lack of movement. He was far too warm and could feel the heat seeping into the mattress.

He had truly begun to believe that he was going to die there in the unbearably silent, dark, stuffy room, alone and abandoned without anyone having the slightest clue as to where he was, himself included. He was almost ready to _welcome_ it.

Until Jason _finally_ returned.

He had been half asleep, dazed, merely focusing on the fact that he was still breathing when the door had suddenly flown open, spilling too-bright artificial light into the darkness, and Tim startled with a frightened yelp and whine as he turned his face away from the blinding white. The door shut tightly once more with a loud metallic thud almost just as quickly, drowning the room in darkness once more, and he listened to the clunking of the heavy boots stumbling across the cement.

With little warning bare fingers ghosted across his forehead, and he flinched at the contact, the too cool temperature a shock to his system. Seemingly his assumption of infection had been correct and he had become feverish. That was no surprise.

Jason let out a low growl as he towered over him and he responded with a noise stuck between and grunt and a whimper before suddenly light returned. The overhead bulb was far dimmer than the bright fluorescents outside of the chamber but Tim still strained his eyes to adjust to the sudden change, blinking rapidly as he tried to locate Jason’s form with his eyes, but his vision was blurred from disuse and he could not focus. His stomach lurched from the sudden dizziness and he squeezed his eyes shut, sucking in deep ragged breaths, willing away the heaving urge to gag spreading up his chest. Suddenly his head was lifted upright, and he forced his eyes open once more to understand why to find a water bottle being brought to his lips. A calloused hand tilted it upward while the other grasped his chin and pried his jaw open. The water streaming into his mouth was a relief and he chugged it quickly, sputtering as it soothed his dry scratchy throat, though the sudden intrusion did little to calm his stomach. The bottle was taken away quicker than he would have liked and he was placed back on the mattress before he could manage a word of complain against it. Jason turned from the bed and hobbled across the room slowly leaving Tim to stare after him.

It gave him some insight on the situation. Clearly whatever had gone on since their confrontation and fight, however long ago that had been, had injured Jason. Even with him seeing double he make out just how tattered the remaining bits of the modified Batsuit were, the split lip, and the plethora of scratches scattered across his face. The man was favoring both his shoulder as well as his leg in addition to the visible damage and had likely re-torn something in his previously injured knee, Tim reasoned.

Jason was cursing softly across the room, tossing supplies around, and the younger man could not suppress his flinching each time he slammed something down on a surface. He felt unnaturally tired again, and fought against his drowsiness, watching Jason’s blurred back as he tinkered with things out of his line of view.

He hadn’t even realized he had shut his eyes until a stabbing pain spread throughout his arm and they shot open as result. He gave a weak yelp, and turned his head to stare down at the source of the pain, watching as Jason poked at prodded at him with an intravenous line. At the other end of the tube a blood pack hung, and Tim felt his nearly empty stomach flop again at the sight, and had to turn away. This was perhaps a mistake as moments later Jason was manhandling him and turning him slightly to side before jabbing a syringe in his rear.

Penicillin, judging by the dull burn, confirming that he was correct about the infection and fever…

As his eyes fluttered shut, no longer able to fight back the drowsiness, the last thing he saw before drifting off entirely was Jason’s face, seemingly rather concerned despite being behind the circumstances that had put him there in the first place…

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The next time Tim awoke his mind was not nearly so cloudy and his stomach was less of a mess but  _everything_  still hurt. The I.V. in his arm was no longer attached to a blood bag feed, instead it was now simply dripping fluids, something he hoped was a good sign.

He was alone once more, but this time the light had been left on, and with his vision better than it had been previously now that he had been provided with medical attention he was able to get a thorough look at his surroundings without making himself ill. It was a large, relatively bare room, which Tim assumed was entirely intentional. It was essentially a concrete box, with a steel door, and the only contents were the mattress he was draped across, the countertop at the far end of the room, the light, and a transparent drawer cabinet that looked to be filled to the brim with medical supplies. He glanced down at his leg, to the device attached, and sighed. He was cuffed to the bed, or rather the wall, a complex piece of work around his ankle that was loose enough to allow circulation but too tight to be comfortable let alone squeeze out of. Even if he were able to sit upright, let alone walk, there would be no removing it, and it was obvious at a first glance that the heavy chain would not reach anywhere near the door. He had to admit, he was not going anywhere anytime soon…

Tim had been coherent for perhaps fifteen minutes when he heard the metallic clang of the door lock being released. In stepped Jason, sans bat-gear, wearing closer to what he had been wearing several months back, domino in place over his eyes. He had clearly tended to himself in the time that had passed and was now steadier on his feet. He shut the door with a loud bang, crossed the room with his arms crossed over his chest, and he stopped beside the bed to leer down at him as a smirk spread across his face.

"Looks like your back among the living, welcome home  _Drake_ …” He drawled, cocking his head at him.

”.. _how long?_ " He managed to croak out, coughing at the scratchiness of his throat.

Jason towered over him, looking him over with a bored look on his face.

"Four days. Admittedly it was _not_ my intention to lock you up and leave you half dead for three of those, but Dickie-bird had other plans, and I was off limping and licking my wounds afterwards. Took a while to pick up supplies and get back here in that state. Nothing pain pills weren’t able to fix so I’m good now. Was a tad bit afraid you’d be in an even worse state, but you’re quite the fighter. Knew you’d at least still be breathing.” He laughed darkly.

Tim frowned, furrowing his brow as he stared up at the man’s blank white lenses.

"I… I don’t understand, wh-"

"Why? I’ve already told you _why_. I gave you a proposition, and you turned me down, even lashed out at me. ‘Cept I don’t take _no_ for an answer, _not anymore_ , and I’m a sore loser.” He sighed, making his way around the mattress. “So now, you’re mine, entirely.”

Tim twitched, sucking in a sharp breath.

"You can’t just-"

"Oh I do believe I _can_ Baby-bird. See, Goldie and his little demon minion think you bit the big one, if not by my own hand like I told them, then by the explosion and cave in I set off when he decided it was time to tango. Granted, that has him raging like a beast and being a thorn in my side, but that means that they _aren’t_ looking for you. You’re at my mercy. It’s up to _me_ to keep you alive, fed, and safe, and _hell_ \- I’ve always wanted a  _pet_.” He chuckled, running a hand through Tim’s bangs, noting with amusement how Tim slunk back from it. “And I’ve been told that homeless strays are the best, the most _loyal_ … and I’m looking forward to that.” He smirked.

With that, a new feeling of dread spread throughout his chest, and Tim was left wondering whether or not he would have preferred for Jason to have left him there alone to rot after all…


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 was edited. I added/deleted/rewrote some things so it's probably best if you re-read it before continuing with this chapter :D

Jason was hard to get along with under normal circumstances since his return to Gotham so it was not at all surprising to Tim that he was even more difficult to be around in this current predicament. The man was fowl mouthed, rude, vicious, and uncaring most of the time.

Keyword being _most_.

The thing that really drove Tim crazy in his hazy state was how one moment Jason could be brash and unpredictable, in his face with a mouth that would have sailors running, and the in next he could be so quiet, unsure, and even at times almost _sweet_ , all in such a short amount of time. It was hard to remember that Jason had only returned from his clash with Dick just over twenty-four hours ago…

Tim had admittedly been miserable. In his current situation it was hard to not be. Locked up in a concrete cage, chained to the wall, on a bare mattress, suffering from multiple injuries, with an infection and raging fever, the addition of no pain medication to ease any of the above made the world seem like a rather cruel place. He had been so hungry, having not eaten in days, and having only had water since the man’s return.

He had refused to ask for food, had refused to talk at all in fact since their first conversation, even with Jason’s constant attempts at provocation. But he hadn’t even needed to ask as it had turned out… Jason knew, and thinking back, how could he not?

The man had provided sustenance without conflict.

Well, for the most part…

Jason had come into the dark chamber with a large coffee mug in hand and spoon in his pocket. He had approached the bed with no hesitation, had gotten down onto his knees, crawling onto the mattress with him, admittedly giving Tim a surge of fear not knowing what to expect and helpless to prevent whatever might come.

Poisoning perhaps?

But without explaining himself, Jason had scooted up beside him, slid a hand under his head, letting it fall to rest upon his thigh, and had placed the spoon in the coffee cup while he stared down at him scowling.

“If you bite me, I’ll break your face with _no_ hesitation, just warning you.” He had huffed, before immediately shoving the contents of the cup down his throat via spoon none too gently.

Some kind of soup, thick and filling, and it dulled the hungered twisting in his chest that had building up for days. Unfortunately, the sudden feeling of being full had hit him with yet another wave of drowsiness, and if that hadn’t been such a pattern for him over the course of the past few days he would have sworn that Jason had drugged him.

When he had awoken briefly hours later, Jason was still beside him on the bed, reading some book he had never bothered to glance at the title of, with his head still propped up on the man’s thigh. Jason had acknowledged him momentarily, brushing some of the hair from his face before he had resumed reading, but had ignored him thereafter. When he had drifted off again quickly after and had awoken at a later time, the man had been gone.

He was absent for an obscene amount of time thereafter, and even when he had returned, he had not come to check on him. The only thing that had alerted him to his return had been the sound of slamming doors well beyond the outside of his cell.

Tim was both unnerved and glad about the lack of a functional clock… he didn’t particularly want to know just how much time was passing between events.

The following days seemed no different

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

He hated the near never ending darkness he was being forced to live with. There was only light when Jason was present most of the time. Tim seriously wondered if the chamber he was trapped within had been constructed purely for him, or if Jason had had other plans initially. It was something he tried hard to not think about… unsure if he really wanted to know.

Though he seemed to do little more than sleep these days he found himself constantly tired, and Tim could not be sure if it was the lingering infection causing his fatigue, the minimal amount of food he was receiving, or if Jason really _was_ drugging him. At this point he wouldn’t put it past the man. It wasn’t as though he could really taste the food Jason brought him from time to time anyway. His taste buds were off, the amount was never enough, and he had no way of knowing just how often he was actually eating. But he was sure that even at the worst of times over the years, wrapped up in a case he could not let go of, he had managed to remember to eat more than what Jason was force feeding him. Although the pain in his body was lessening, and the fever was gradually subsiding, he could feel his previously toned muscles weakening further.

It was all purposeful, he was sure of it. Jason was already so much larger, _stronger_ … but he had always been _faster_ , lither, smarter, enough so that he had always been able to hold his own against the man when he needed to. He was sure that as things stood being left with just his brain and none of his brawn would do him little good.

The intricate manacle around his ankle itched, and the heaviness was beyond uncomfortable, but any effort to sit up and adjust it was met with a burning pain that pulsed long after he had given up. The soreness in his limbs, and the headache he had held for days might have faded, but the wound on his sternum was still agitated and infected. He was glad that he was in no shape examine it on his own. It likely would have made him hurl with the wound’s current state. As is he was sure it was going to leave a pretty noticeable scar.

As the days had gone on Tim could see the damage that had been done to Jason’s psyche in the time since Bruce’s death. Or rather, it may have been Bruce’s last words to the man, cruel and blunt, digging up the past. More than likely it was the combo of the two that had sent him on the downward spiral.

Jason was outright bi-polar. He returned back to wherever it was that they were holed up each dawn after patrol a raging beast. Tim could only be thankful that most of the violence occurred outside of his chamber, not that he was at all spared completely. Jason never raised a hand to him in his sickened state, but the venom that leaked from the man’s mouth felt just as brutal and he could not help but flinch as Jason tossed things around in frustration. More often than not he was still clad in his bat suit, but from time to time the cowl was absent, and Tim could see Jason’s face, his eyes… and he could see just how stressed, pained, and panicked he was. It made him seem a touch more human despite the circumstances. Had he not been stuck as his prisoner he would have genuinely felt bad for the man, but it was hard to feel pity for someone holding him against his will, for someone that was intentionally breaking him down and making him weak.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Jason was gone far longer than usual one night. Despite himself it managed to worry him, not only for his sake, but for Jason’s. He had no way of knowing just how bad the city had gotten since his captivity had started. He hardly wanted to die trapped in his cell simply because Jason had met his end elsewhere. He didn’t wish death on the man in general either. Jason needed a special sort of help, not a death sentence, and it was certainly not the first time since he released the man that he was regretting ever having let him out of prison.

After all, he wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place if he hadn’t. He had no way of knowing how much damage Jason himself was doing to Gotham either, and he wondered how Dick and Babs were handling the hostile takeover… and how they were handling his supposed death.

He could do little more than stare at the ceiling lost in his thoughts.

Jason’s eventual return was announced by loud bangs of slammed metal doors and the sound of breaking glass. It startled him and he had little time to prepare himself for the man’s entrance.

He stormed into the room with a flurry of motion, movements so fast that the bat cape flapped behind him as he stomped, and nearly got caught in the door as it was flung shut. Jason ripped the cowl from his head once in and threw it onto the counter. He roughly ran a hand through his damp hair and exhaled sharply as he propped himself up against it.

Tim clenched his jaw as he eyed the man, unsure if he was about to have a blow up, or if he was going to calm down now that he was back at base.

In the end it was seemingly neither as Jason was practically vibrating and yet he had a partial smirk upon his face.

“Hnn…” he grunted, leaning back against the wall. “Dickie-bird’s sure in a bad mood. He’s quite angry with me for ‘offing’ you. See, he still thinks I blew you to pieces after our little scuffle when I torched the place. Intentional of course.” He snorted, cocking his head at him.

“I…I see.” And there was little he could say about that without having been there, though he had already seen how badly Dick reacted to deaths of those he cared about, and could imagine that Jason was not exaggerating in the slightest.

“Yeah… oh, I knew he’d be angry, several sorts of hurt even, and that he would _never_ forgive me. But, he’d get over it in time- let the wound scar over. He won’t kill me, won’t break Daddy’s golden rule, and he can’t take me in either. Not if I _own_ this city. It will be a lost cause. Letting him think you’re nothing but ash ensures that he won’t be looking for you- that you’re all _mine_.”

Tim sucked in a shaky breath and turned his head away from the man.

“I know you’re upset. It’s only natural. You have every right to be. But you’ll understand eventually. After all, wasn’t it _you_ that said that Batman _needs_ a Robin?” He murmured, and Tim tensed as a gloved hand suddenly combed through his hair, something that was quickly becoming a habit of Jason’s since this had all started. “Things will be so much easier when you see sense. I promise.”

And with that he was gone, leaving him with nothing but his thoughts, and a sandwich at the bedside he hadn’t even seen placed there that he had little interest in touching.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

 


End file.
